


Relief

by karrahbear



Series: Simple Secrets [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrahbear/pseuds/karrahbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain things that nobody knows. This secret is Stiles'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief

What nobody knew was that Stiles wasn’t actually ADHD. Oh sure, that’s what he was diagnosed with at seven years old when he couldn’t sit still during class because he was bored. But then again, what seven-year-old boy can sit still? Regardless, he’d kept the label, blaming his eccentricities on the disease he didn’t have and his constant motion on the medication he didn’t take.

What everybody else knew, but Stiles didn’t realize, was that he was his own brand of genius. He didn’t fit the mold of the intellectual, despite his near perfect grades, and because of that, he was written off by teachers and students alike. But Einstein himself had said once that everyone’s a genius, but if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it’ll live forever thinking it’s stupid. Stiles was definitely a fish in a world of primates. 

What Stiles did know, was that his brain seemed incapable of shutting down. It processed and contemplated and imagined and calculated at a non-stop rapid fire pace. Going to sleep at night was a carefully executed plan of attack involving a hot shower, warm milk, and reading a college level inorganic chemistry textbook until his eyelids grew too heavy to stay open and his brain finally tired enough to allow Stiles to slip into unconsciousness. But once his alarm went off the next morning, his mind was back to work. Stiles didn’t have the luxury of being able to utilize the snooze button.

But occasionally there were moments, several of them in a row if he was lucky, where Stiles’ frantic cerebral activity would slow. Where, for just that time, he was able to close his eyes and not think. He was just able to be. Sometimes those moments were sporadic, but more often than not, it was when Derek was around.

It was during those rare occasions when Stiles found himself alone with the Alpha, Derek leaned against Stiles’ bookshelf, Stiles hunched over his computer, working his research magic, where Stiles found peace. Sometimes, Stiles sought Derek out, needing the stillness his presence created in his thoughts. Each time, Derek never asked questions, didn’t even glare at him. The werewolf just gazed at him for a moment, nodded once, and continued about his business, whether it was working on the Camaro, making dinner, or simply sitting silently on the porch watching the stars.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles had to get out of his house. It was too confined, too cramped, and he knew that if he stayed, he would inevitably gravitate to his laptop and the horrifying pages of research on their most recent monster scare. Now that was a nasty son-of-a-bitch. 

His dad was working late, so he didn’t have to sneak out. Stiles took the front door and bypassed his jeep, heading down the block on foot, attempting to get his bouncing thoughts to follow the beat of his footsteps against the pavement. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but it didn’t matter. The air was crisp, the breeze just this side of icy, and carrying with it the scent of leaves, fireplaces, and winter. Stiles loved it. 

He continued through his neighborhood, passing Scott’s house and a playground, before he reached the edge of the woods. Stiles paused for a moment, realizing just how much his life had changed. A couple years ago, he would’ve been worried about being out so late alone, but now, kidnapping and mugging were low on his list of potential threats. The fact that supernatural creatures topped that list said something about the state of his life, Stiles was sure, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what that was. 

Stiles also realized, as he stepped into the trees, treading a familiar path, that he would have skirted the woods, worried about what might reach out of the shadows and grab him. But now, Stiles knew all about what resided in the woods, and while he wasn’t exactly best friends with the werewolves that topped the predatory food chain, he knew he wasn’t at risk of being eaten either. At least most of the time. Occasionally the looks he got from Derek made him wonder.

Stiles trekked deeper into the forest, and when he nearly tripped over the same fallen log he always did when heading for the Hale house on foot, he knew he was close. He also knew that if Derek was there, and he wasn’t busy, the Alpha would be sitting on the mostly renovated porch, a worn novel in hand, and a cup of coffee by his side. That thought alone, of Derek, of the simple quiet and restful aura he emanated, made Stiles pick up his pace until he emerged into the clearing.

Sure enough, Derek was on the porch, but instead of a novel, he held what looked to be a textbook. Stiles smiled wearily as he approached, already feeling the tension leave his neck and shoulders, but the Alpha didn’t acknowledge him. Derek just took a sip from his mug and turned the page. It didn’t bother Stiles.

He climbed the stairs to the porch and let himself inside, heading for the kitchen. The house was in the throes of being rebuilt, so there were tools and sawdust everywhere, but since Derek couldn’t live without his daily infusion of caffeine, the kitchen was the first room finished and was kept clean. 

The coffeepot was still half-full and warm, bordering on hot. An empty mug sat upside down next to the coffee machine. Stiles considered it his own since Derek had only owned one mug until he had started showing up. Once Stiles’ visits became a regular enough occurrence, the second mug had appeared near the coffeepot and never left. Derek had never said word one about it and Stiles didn’t ask, but the werewolf had started making more coffee than usual on nights where he expected the teen to show up. His preparedness rate was nearly perfect, with the exception of one night where Stiles had actually shown up before Derek had gotten back from a nightly run.

So Stiles poured himself a cup, grabbed a throw from the back of the sofa, and then joined Derek on the porch. He found the wolf with a furrowed brow, gnawing on the back end of a ballpoint pen as he read.

“That exciting, huh?” Stiles asked, his voice quiet, as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and slid down the front of the house until he was seated on the porch, about ten feet from Derek. “What’re you reading?”

“History of the United Soviet Socialist Republic.”

Stiles hummed. He wasn’t sure if Derek was being serious or not, but he thought it better not to ask, particularly if he valued the privilege of spending quiet time with him. So the teen tipped his head back against the house, took a sip of his coffee, and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth that slid down his throat and into his belly. 

He heard Derek turn a page and then pick up his mug. A telltale clunk told Stiles a few moments later that he’d emptied his cup and set it back on the porch. The breeze picked up again making Stiles shiver. He tugged his hood over his short hair and took another sip of coffee. The pages of Derek’s book rustled. 

After another few moments, he heard Derek stir. 

“Come on.”

Stiles opened his eyes to find Derek standing over him, book in one hand, coffee in the other. 

“Where are we going?”

Derek raised his eyebrows and glanced at the door.

“Oh, right.”

Stiles scrambled to his feet and followed Derek back into the house. The wolf ducked into the kitchen and emerged a few moments later with another cup of black coffee. Stiles shoved the drop cloth covering the sofa out of the way and then sank into the cushions as Derek took his usual seat in a plush chair closer to the fireplace, curling his left foot under him.

For a moment Stiles stared. Something about the motion was mildly disconcerting and incredibly intriguing. He pulled his feet up onto the sofa with him and leaned sideways against the back, still watching. Derek continued to read and either he wasn’t aware that Stiles was fixated on him – unlikely – or he didn’t care. 

Derek was chewing on the back end of the pen again, his gaze serious as he read. After a few seconds he underlined something in the book and made some note in the margins. 

He also took the opportunity presented by the removal of the pen from his mouth to ask: “Are you going to stare all night?”

There was no heat behind the question. Stiles didn’t answer, but he did shift his focus towards the front window where a light snow was beginning to fall. 

Derek didn’t push.

Stiles wondered absently if Derek had sensed the coming change in weather and that’s why they had moved indoors. Maybe. Or maybe he’d gotten cold. But that was ridiculous, because he wasn’t a regular person. Except… sometimes he was. That’s what had thrown him off earlier: the sight of Derek behaving like, well, a person. The way he was sitting, with one leg tucked under him and a pen in his mouth, made him seem less like a creature of the night and more like a typical twenty-something guy. Stiles smiled faintly at the thought of Derek acting like a normal human being. 

Derek glanced up briefly, eyes questioning. Stiles just shrugged, still smiling. Between the warm coffee in his gut, the steady fall of snow, and the comfortable silence, Stiles found himself being slowly lulled to sleep. Before he could think better of it, he had dozed off.


End file.
